Some Sort of Mix Up
by ttfn.tahtahfornow
Summary: Son, I must express my pleasure that you seem to be acclimating yourself to the dizzying altitudes of Gryffindor tower, and, dare I say, acquainting yourself with the natives.
1. Un

**a/n: **I've wanted to do an Albus/Scorpius pretty much ever since Deathly Hallows came out (even just so I could call it ASS) . . . God knows I must be mental to be taking on _another _chapter story—this one is purely for my own comic relief, though, so it won't be number one priority. But here it is. (First portion blatantly stolen directly from JKR's epilogue).

x.x.x

**Some Sort of Mix Up**

x.x.x

Un

x.x.x

"_What if I'm in Slytherin?"_

"_Albus Severus, you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."_

"_But _just say_—"_

"—_then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won't it? It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if it matters to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."_

x.x.x

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

Scorpius flicked a strand of blond hair out of his eyes as he sat on the creaking, three-legged stool with an elegant and affected carelessness that only eleven years of living as the son of Draco Malfoy could have taught him.

His palms were sweating bullets.

_Malfoy, is it?_ the Hat whispered in his head. _This is certainly interesting. I remember your father—your grandfather—your great-grandfather—your—_

_Merlin, I get the picture!_ Scorpius thought. _All of my ancestors have been to Hogwarts and they've all been in Slytherin. Why is this taking so long?_

_Yes_, the Hat told him. _Yes, those of the Malfoy clan do traditionally end up in Slytherin House._

_Exactly_, Scorpius replied. _So would you please just go ahead and put me in—_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Oh damn.

x.x.x

"Potter, Albus!"

Al swallowed, palms sweating as he clumsily made his way to the stool. The Stool. On top of which perched the Hat.

He felt the ragged, patched-up Sorting Hat placed on his head and all he could do was wring his sweaty hands anxiously and hope that "Perkins, Zachary!" didn't have lice.

_Hmm,_ he heard the Hat's voice in his head. _Very interesting, indeed. Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting your brother a year ago—Potter _and_ Weasley blood, eh? Well, well._

_That's good, right?_ Albus thought. _My parents were both Gryffindor. And so were their parents. And James is Gryffindor, too._

_Yes_, the Hat told him. _Yes, you are quite right. I know just where to put you._

_Oh, thank Merlin_, Albus thought with an outward sigh of relief. _My dad was right, after all. You wouldn't believe it, but I was so worried you'd put me in—_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Oh damn.

x.x.x

Albus' first dinner at the Slytherin House table was nothing short of painfully awkward.

"Erm—hello," he said to the husky brunet on his right. "I'm Al Potter. Umm—I didn't quite catch your—"

"Potter?" the boy said with a sneer. "As in _Harry _Potter?"

"Erm—y-yes," Al said. "He's—my father."

The boy bared his teeth menacingly. "_Your_ father landed _my _grandfather in Azkaban. Where he went mad and hanged himself."

Al took his glasses off and pretended to wipe off a smudge with his sleeve. "Well then—err—I still didn't quite catch your—"

"Goyle," the brunet growled. "Vince Goyle. Don't speak to me."

Albus whimpered.

x.x.x

Scorpius took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst.

Dinner—with the _Gryffindors._

"Hello," the girl sitting next to him chirped, eyes bright and eager. "I'm Rose Weasley. And you are?"

Scorpius frowned, suspicious and slightly afraid of her rather perky behavior. "Scorpius Malfoy," he murmured. "Umm—it's a pleasure."

She tittered, running a hand through her bright red hair. "Oh, I know who you are, of course. I was just being polite. My dad pointed you out in the station earlier."

Scorpius suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.

"Daddy told me to beat you in every test. He said not to get too friendly." She giggled. "Of course, I'm sure when he said that he imagined you'd be in Slytherin. Well—I'm _terrifically _excited to be in Gryffindor, aren't you? Such a relief, don't you know—I'm just giddy. Poor Al, though."

"Poor _me,_" Scorpius mumbled inaudibly.

The girl shook her head to herself. "James will give him _such _a hard time. Poor, poor Al."

x.x.x

"A Malfoy, huh?" the second-or-third-year boy sitting across from him said.

"Er—yes," he said. "Scorpius Malfoy."

"I've heard _stories _about that family," the boy said, narrowing his brown eyes. "Bad blood, the lot of you."

"Oh, James, don't be such a berk!" the girl—Rose—cried. She sniffed in indignation. "_Just because _his father and his father's parents supported Voldemort before Uncle Harry got rid of him—"

His stomach twisted. Scorpius bit the inside of his cheek and mentally repeated his father's mantra of _Malfoys do not blush in public_.

The nattering continued.

_Malfoys do not blush in public._

"—and oh, yes_, _you're so right_, _Rosie," he heard the boy—James—say, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so sorry. Why _should _a family full of nothing but the Darkest wizards say anythingabout his character? After all, Dark wizards aren't _ever _sorted into Gryffindor. Or perhaps you forgot Uncle Ron's story about that rat Petti—"

_Malfoys do not burst into tears in public._

x.x.x

"Ah—so," Al said to the black-haired girl on his left, "were you—err—expecting to be sorted into Slytherin, then?"

"Obviously," the girl said. "Both sides of my family have been in Slytherin for generations. You, on the other hand—"

"What about me?" he demanded.

"Well, it certainly must have been _un_expected. A Potter?" She scoffed. "The Slytherins will eat you alive," she stated plainly.

He gulped. "Err. Yes—umm—I'm a Potter—Al Potter—though I suppose you—ah—were aware of that already."

"Yes, how fascinating," she said, crinkling her nose in distaste. "Claire Zabini."

"Ah—lovely to meet you," Albus said.

The girl rolled her eyes and turned to her pudding. "There's clearly been some sort of mix up. Scorpius should _really _be here instead of you."

x.x.x

_Dear Dad,_

_Please, please, please come and get me and take me home now. The Hat didn't listen and the Slytherins really scare me._

_Love,_

_Al_

_p.s. Could you please not put anyone else in Azkaban for a while? Just incase they're related to one of my housemates. Especially no one named Goyle, please._

x.x.x

_Father,_

_I request that you send Twinky to escort me home immediately. The Sorting Hat is obviously growing senile and has placed me in a House full of do-gooders with toffee for brains._

_And the Gryffindors really scare me. _

_Yours,_

_Scorpius_

_p.s. I would greatly appreciate if you refrained from acquiring any more skull-and-snake tattoos, as your first one has been causing me a rather good deal of trouble lately._

x.x.x

His first night in the Gryffindor dormitories, Scorpius found himself subjected to the most excruciating torture—inane chatter.

"What kind of a name is Lovegood?" one of Scorpius' Gryffindor dorm mates asked another.

"Oh, it's my mother's name," the darker boy replied dreamily. "Of course, usually when a child is born it's given its father's surname, but my parents think that that tradition is old-fashioned and patriarchal, so they decided to alternate their surnames between us. I have two little sisters, so right now we've got three Lovegoods in the family and only two Thomases, but Mum's planning on having one more to even things—"

Scorpius groaned.

He didn't get to sleep.

x.x.x

His first night in the Slytherin dormitories, Albus huddled under his blankets and closed the drapes around his bed, leaving open only a tiny crack from which he watched Vince Goyle's bed warily.

He didn't get to sleep.

x.x.x

_Dear Albus,_

_I'm terribly sorry that the Hat didn't take your opinion into consideration as it did mine, but your mother and I are still extremely proud of you and have no intentions of removing you from Hogwarts._

_Despite what James might tell you, the Slytherins really aren't all that bad. Most do _not_, in fact, grow up to become evil Dark overlords. I trust you'll eventually make friends in Slytherin House, but if you feel uncomfortable at first, I'm sure that Rosie—I hear she's been put in Gryffindor—or James would be happy to show you the location of the Gryffindor common room._

_Much love,_

_Dad_

_p.s. Being an Auror, I'm sorry to say that I cannot simply stop making arrests. However, I can tell you that I highly doubt I will be throwing Gregory Goyle into Azkaban anytime soon. So his son's as imposing as he was at that age, I take it?_

x.x.x

_Son,_

_Suck it up. Twinky remains here to serve me my tea and fetch me my robe. I simply cannot spare her._

_I believe you'll eventually find that not all_ _Gryffindors have toffee for brains, despite their obnoxious moral austerity and overblown savior complexes. I can personally vouch for your own lack of toffee in the cranial area, at the very least._

_I will also state that the Sorting Hat is over a thousand years old, and therefore I would imagine that if it hadn't already grown completely senile by the time I was at Hogwarts then it likely is not doing and will never do so._

_Sincerely,_

_Your father_

_p.s. The damned thing caused me a rather good deal of trouble myself, once. I'll promise you this—the day I mar my otherwise perfect skin with another tacky thing like that is the day you receive my full permission to have me committed to St. Mungo's Permanent Residents' Ward._

x.x.x

Albus had suffered the intimidating glares and frigid disregard of his housemates.

He had suffered the cruel taunting of his brother and the pity-filled glances of his cousin.

And, as Scorpius Malfoy grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty corridor, Al thought he would be _damned _if he suffered anything on behalf of this Slyther—err—Malfoy prat.

"What do _you_ want?" Al uncharacteristically snapped.

The blond boy rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm as thrilled about all this as you are," he said. "Rather unfortunately, my father has refused to have me removed from Hogwarts—has it in his mind that I need to acquire a basic magical education in order to make any progress in life, or some such shite as that."

"Er—yeah," Albus murmured, surprised to stumble upon this common ground. "My dad wouldn't take me home, either."

"Well, then," Scorpius said, "we'll have to sort this out on our own. There's clearly been some sort of mix up."

"That—ah—that's just what Claire Zabini said."

The blond's face brightened. "You've talked to Claire?"

"Err—in a sense," Al replied.

Scorpius pursed his lips. "Well, anyway," he said, continuing with his original train of thought, "it's rather apparent that _you_ should be in Gryffindor with the toffee brainers and _I _should be in Slytherin with Claire. I've come up with a plan, in any case—that is, if you're not going to be a wet blanket about it."

"Plan?" he said suspiciously.

"It's simple, even for you Gryffin—err—Potter types," Scorpius assured him. "We can just switch places. We'll exchange passwords and robes—red and gold do nothing for my complexion, really—and I can live with the Slytherins while you live with the Gryffindors—sleeping in their dorms and sitting at their table and all of that. We'll attend each others' classes—of course, we'll do our own homework and take our own exams, because I certainly don't trust you with _that_—and we'd only tell our closest friends what's really going on, of course, but—well, in essence we'd just be switching Houses."

Al pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm pretty sure that switching Houses isn't—umm—allowed," he said. "Don't you think the teachers would notice?"

"Of course it isn't _allowed,_" Scorpius said with a sneer. "And of course the teachers would notice. That's why we've got some preparing to do before the plan can come into effect. If you're not afraid, that is."

"Preparing for—what?" Al frowned. "I'm not exactly following."

The blond boy grinned mischievously. "Have you ever heard of Polyjuice Potion?"

x.x.x

**a/n: **Any interest, or should I nip it in the bud?


	2. Deux

**a/n: **Am alive. Am continuing story. Slash. Yay.

x.x.x

**Some Sort of Mix Up**

x.x.x

Deux

x.x.x

"Albus Potter!" his cousin exclaimed. "I hope you're not thinking—"

"Shh!" he interjected, motioning toward the librarian's desk. "But you _do _remember the book they used, don't you? In Uncle Ron's story?"

Rose frowned. "My father is a _terrible _influence on you. And it was called _Moste Potente Potions._"

"Do you think—" Al's eyes widened hopefully. "You think maybe—you might—might want to help us? Brew the potion?"

"Al!" Rose looked scandalized. "That must be against a _hundred _school rules. At least. I've already helped more than I should have just by telling you—"

"But won't it be great when we can be in Gryffindor together?" he asked, and her expression softened a bit. Encouraged, he continued, "Plus, you're_ so _smart, Rose. I mean, I know _I _don't know anything about Potions. Scorpius Malfoy—well, I'll just have to hope for the best, won't I? Of course, if there was anyone that could help us brew it right so it wouldn't wind up deadly or—"

"Okay," Rose cut in. "Fine. You win. But only because I hadn't considered the possibility that in spite of my warnings you will stubbornly attempt to brew it anyway, proceed to botch it up, drink it and kill yourself. I can at least—supervise, or something. _Some_one has to make sure you don't ingest anything lethal."

Albus grinned. "You're the best, Rosie."

x.x.x

"Scorpius Malfoy!" his friend exclaimed. "You can't really be willing to sacrifice your good looks just for the sake of switching Houses?"

Scorpius snorted lightly. "But won't it be great when we can be in Slytherin together? I mean—if you don't mind being seen with a bespectacled Potter, of course."

Claire frowned pensively. "So this potion—you'll look _exactly _like him?"

He nodded.

"Glasses and all?"

He nodded.

The frown remained, but she finally shrugged. "I suppose there are _worse_ people to be seen with."

"So you're in?" Scorpius said.

"I'm in," Claire replied with a smirk.

"And you'll help us brew it?"

The black-haired girl nodded her consent.

Scorpius grinned. "You're the best, Claire."

x.x.x

"So," the blond said, dragging Albus into a rather familiar empty hallway, "you say the book's in the Restricted Section?"

Albus nodded, and the other boy frowned. "Perhaps Longbottom could give you a pass?" Scorpius asked hopefully. "He seems rather friendly with you Potter bunch."

"Not _that_ friendly," Al murmured. "I think we can pull it off, though," he said seriously. "My brother has—well—" Albus stopped, considering the prudence of telling Scorpius _Malfoy_ about his brother's invisibility cloak. "Well—he can help me get the book. He might give me a rough time about it, but he'll give in eventually. Always does."

"You're not going to tell your _brother _about this?" Scorpius asked, eyes widening in something akin to fear.

"No, no," he said. "Of course not. I'm not _completely_ off my rocker. I won't have to tell him anything about—the _plan_—to get into the Restricted Section. Just have to get James to lend me something, and then I can sneak in—no problem."

Scorpius quirked a brow but otherwise seemed to accept the explanation. "And Rose is helping? She's your cousin, isn't she?"

Albus nodded. "Yeah. I mean—to both. What about Claire?" he asked.

"She's in."

x.x.x

"Good evening, Albus," Claire Zabini greeted him, somber faced, as he took a seat next to her at dinner.

Al stifled a grin. "Good evening, Clairebus," he deadpanned.

The girl's visage remained blank, but Albus could detect the amused glint in her eye.

So. Slytherins weren't completely without humor, after all.

Al stifled a grin.

x.x.x

Before she eventually left the table with some girl friends, Claire whispered, "Bye, Al." And then she cracked an only slightly forced-looking smile.

"See you, Claire."

x.x.x

"You know, you might be able to talk Al out of this. If you decided to change your mind. "

Scorpius looked up from his Charms essay to see Rose Weasley, who had somehow managed to track him down even as he sat inconspicuously in a secluded corner of the appallingly decorated Gryffindor common room.

"Why would I want to talk him out of it?" Scorpius asked. "Or change my mind?"

"Because it's a_ stupid _and _dangerous _idea, that's why," she said with a little huff. She took a seat next to him on the couch that was all too squashy and red for his liking.

"Well," he said, "I'm not changing my mind. I belong in Slytherin with Claire and he belongs in here with—well—you."

The ginger-headed girl rolled her eyes. "I won't take that as an insult," she offered generously. Peering at the books and parchment scattered about the floor near his feet, her face brightened. "Is that your Charms essay?" she asked eagerly. "On the properties and correct execution of _Wingardium leviosa?_"

He nodded, somewhat taken by surprise. "Err—yeah," he said. "I've got ten and a half inches so far, mostly on the wand techniques and—you know—effects of the spell."

"Do you need some help with that last little bit?" Rose asked. She then forged ahead without waiting for an answer. "Have you tried detailing the proper pronunciation? Because I got three whole inches just from that."

So. Gryffindors weren't completely without brains, after all.

He grinned. "Actually—that would be good. I only mentioned pronunciation in passing, and I was dead out of ideas for that last inch and a half."

She smiled and babbled on—something about stressing the 'o' in _lev-i-o-sa_—and he dutifully paraphrased her explanations until he had completed the twelve-inch essay.

"Thanks."

She nodded and opened her mouth, but he cut her off with, "And I'm still not changing my mind about the plan."

Rose shook her head admonishingly, murmuring something about "never letting Dad tell Al about another idiotic, dangerous stunt like that again" as she stood up from the couch and walked away.

x.x.x

Scorpius packed up his books, prickling at Rose's assumption that Albus had gotten the plan from her father. The idea had been _his_, after all. He'd read about Polyjuice Potion in his father's library one dreadfully boring afternoon.

But apparently even another Gryffindor wouldn't give a Gryffindor credit for such a brilliantly devised and masterfully cunning plan.

Well, that's what Scorpius figured, anyway.

x.x.x

In Potions the next day, Rose Weasley took the seat next to him.

Scorpius smiled and didn't even edge his seat in the opposite direction.

She smiled back. And didn't even edge her seat in the opposite direction, either.

Maybe this Gryffindor thing didn't _completely _suck.

x.x.x

"Hey—Potter?" called Vince Goyle's eleven-year-old yet somehow still gruff and intimidating voice.

Al turned and came face-to-face with the gruff and intimidating owner of the gruff and intimidating voice.

He considered dropping to the floor and assuming fetal position. Or just crying.

"Potter."

Al's eyes darted around the common room. A gaggle of third-or-so-year girls sat clustered in a far corner and a pack of old-enough-to-be-terrifying boys lounged in front of the fire. And, of course, a handful of students was scattered about the room, each one doing homework alone.

Witnesses. A dozen, at the very least.

Al sighed in relief, deciding he was safe. For now. "Yes?" he said, thrilled to note that his voice didn't even crack.

Goyle frowned, tugging on his sleeves with his beefy hands. "I—umm—got a letter," he said. "From my dad."

Oh—_shit_.

Al's dad had lied again and he'd gone and sent Vince Goyle's father to Azkaban and now it didn't matter _how _many witnesses were in the room, Albus would have to face the impulsive and uncontrollable wrath of this hulking boy in front of him.

"A letter?" Al asked, hoping to buy himself an extra thirty seconds of life.

Goyle nodded, eyes trained on the ground. "He said—umm—that I couldn't give you no trouble or nothing. 'Cause your dad—ah—saved his life. Or something like that. During the war. So. And—umm—Claire doesn't hate you anymore, so I figure Scorpius must not hate you. So I figure it's okay if—y'know—I don't hate you, neither."

Shocked and relieved, Albus blinked a few times to make sure his eyeballs wouldn't pop out of his head. He then quickly pulled his features into a bland expression of not-quite-boredom. Al couldn't afford lose this sudden and fortuitous upper hand.

"Well," he said in a tone of polite disinterest, "that's good to hear. Maybe I'll even go as far as to say I don't hate you either, yeah?"

Vince Goyle nodded subserviently and trotted off.

Al smiled to himself. Maybe this Slytherin thing didn't _completely _suck.

x.x.x

"Hey, Malfoy!" James Potter summoned from across the cozy Gryffindor common room. "Malfoy!"

Scorpius felt his stomach sink as he sauntered over to the older boy. "Yeah?" he said casually, praying that the terror wasn't audible in his voice.

"You and Rosie are friends now, huh?"

He nodded. "Yes, I—I suppose so."

James curled his bottom lip thoughtfully. "She's pretty much a sister to me," he said. "Only less annoying 'cause I don't have to live with her."

Scorpius wasn't quite sure where this was going, but said nothing

"So," he continued, "since Rose is so important to me, and she seems to value your friendship for reasons unknown, I thought we should—umm—start fresh. You know. And I won't say bad stuff about your family anymore."

Scorpius blinked and nodded.

"But don't expect us to be mates or anything," James warned sharply. "You're still an ickle firstie. And," he continued in a threatening tone, "if you try _any_thing funny with my little cousin, I'll be out for your pure, Malfoy blood."

"Brilliant," Scorpius said with a tight grin. He then darted away while he still had the chance to escape the sinister presence of James Potter with his dignity intact.

x.x.x

"Please, James?" Al begged. "I'll bring it right back and I won't rip it or anything. I'll be _extra_ careful."

James snorted. "Why should I trust you, huh, Slytherin?"

Well. James wanted to play dirty, did he?

"Maybe you shouldn't," Al said coolly. "But if you don't let me borrow the Invisibility Cloak, I'll write Mum that you brought it to school with you. And then you'll be in for a Howler, for sure—if you're lucky."

James grimaced. "Should've been an only child," he muttered.

"So you'll lend it to me?" Al said with a grin.

"Yeah, you prat. I'll lend it to you. But you'd better be bloody _careful _with it."

x.x.x

"So," he said as Albus Potter took a seat next to him at the library table, "did you get—whatever it is you needed?"

The black-haired boy grinned eagerly. "Just for tonight," he said. "So—I'll nick the book from the Restricted Section tonight, and then tomorrow we can look over the instructions and worry about gathering ingredients and all of that."

Scorpius nodded. "Perfect."

Albus stood up, but Scorpius called after him—"Hold on!"—wanting to engage the other boy for a while longer, though he couldn't think of a single logical reason why.

"Yeah?" the Potter said.

"Er—have you talked to Claire?" he asked. "I mean—are the two of you getting on all right?"

Albus resumed his seat. "Yeah, actually." He momentarily flashed his teeth. "She's not bad at all. I just had to sort of—learn to speak her language, you know?"

Scorpius nodded. He knew.

"Well—and so what about Rose? And you, I mean."

He brushed a strand of blond fringe out of his eyes. "Pretty much exactly what you just said. Of course, Rose's language is a little easier to decipher—_academics_."

The green-eyed boy laughed. "Yeah," he said, standing up again. "Well, it'll be good to have them helping us with the plan, anyway. And then we can—you know—go back to normal. You in Slytherin and me—well. Like it should be, yeah?"

"Like it should be," Scorpius repeated, swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat as Al walked off.

x.x.x

When Albus closed his eyes that night, clutching James' cloak and cradling an ancient tome, he saw Scorpius Malfoy, sitting at a library table and brushing a strand of blond fringe out of his eyes.

He blinked.

Darkness.

Vince Goyle snored.

x.x.x

**a/n: **Review or face the impulsive and uncontrollable wrath of Vince Goyle.ince Goyle.


	3. Trois

**a/n: **Egads. I'll just be glad if all my readers haven't grown old and died at this point.

x.x.x

**Some Sort of Mix Up**

x.x.x

Trois

x.x.x

"Lacewing flies," Scorpius read aloud to the three others, "leeches, powdered bicorn horn, knotgrass, fluxweed—"

From across the table, Rose snatched the book away, cutting his reading short. Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed as she skimmed the pages on Polyjuice Potion. "A month!" she exclaimed. "This will take a _month _to brew."

"Twenty-one days," Scorpius corrected, his lips forming a slight pout. He'd been hoping for, at worst, maybe two weeks more in Gryffindor. "That's how long the lacewings have to stew. But it isn't—_that_ long."

Rose frowned pensively. "How are we planning to _get _all of this? A few of these ingredients are rather rare."

Al nudged her and grinned. "Don't you remember Uncle Ron's story?" he said slyly.

The redhead curled her upper-lip distastefully. "You're starting to sound like James. And my father will be hearing from me about that," she murmured. She continued, louder, "I'd been hoping that perhaps we could find a more _legal _way to go about acquiring our ingredients, thank you very much."

Claire scoffed from her seat next to Scorpius. "_Legal_," she said. "That's so Gryffindor."

Scorpius coughed somewhat awkwardly into his hand, not quite sure whether or not he now fit into the category of "so Gryffindor."

"Yes, well," Rose said with a little shrug. "I am in Gryffindor. And I think we should do it legally."

Albus smirked. "Rosie," he said, "we're breaking about—how many rules did you say?—a hundred?—just by brewing the potion, not to mention the part about actually _switching_ Houses. What difference does it make at this point if we nick a few ingredients?"

Rose huffed. "Well—we would be breaking _fewer _rules if we didn't steal ingredients, at least. It could be the difference between expulsion and detention every night for the rest of our Hogwarts careers."

"Come on, Rose," Scorpius goaded, running a hand through his bright blond hair. "Let's just _do_ it. Didn't your parents or someone do the same thing?"

"That doesn't necessarily mean it will work for _us,_" Rose argued. "Besides, they were an entire year older when they pulled that off."

"How _did _they pull it off, anyway?" he asked. "That could help us in formulating our own plan. And—what did they want with Polyjuice Potion, anyway?"

Scorpius felt Albus' green eyes on him. The black-haired boy grinned mischievously. Shifting his focus to Rose, he noticed a slight frown on her face.

"Hmm?" he said. "What is it?"

Albus opened his mouth, as if to share some great secret.

"Al," Rose cut in, "maybe you shouldn't. Maybe we shouldn't bring that up. It's just that"—she looked at Scorpius, now—"it had to do with your father and—and you probably wouldn't appreciate it very much."

"Well, go on then, tell me," Scorpius turned to Albus and demanded. Being eleven years old and male, he had taken Rose's words as a clear challenge, and Scorpius Malfoy never turned down a challenge. "I can handle it."

And Albus grinned and opened his mouth again.

x.x.x

_Father,_

_I would simply like you to know that I am extremely disappointed in you. How could you have been gullible enough to believe that anyone carrying the surname Goyle would be reading by age twelve?_

_Fourteen, maybe._

_Just remember that if you had sent Twinky when I requested, I would have never spoken to Albus Potter, and therefore would never have learned this from him. And you would have been saved a good deal of embarrassment._

_I do hope you're reading this in private._

_Your son,_

_Scorpius_

_p.s. Our indoor Quidditch pitch was used as a hiding place for Dark artifacts? What a waste._

x.x.x

_Dear Dad,_

_Thank you, thank you, thank you for saving Vince Goyle's dad during the war and not throwing him into Azkaban since my last letter._

_Love,_

_Al_

_p.s. Where's _our _indoor Quidditch pitch? Scorpius Malfoy's family has loads more fun._

x.x.x

"Are you ready?" Scorpius whispered before the start of Potions—Slytherin-Gryffindor mixed, ideal for promoting inter-House unity and conspiracy. "Not afraid, are you?"

"Of course I'm not afraid!" Rose spat indignantly. "I only think that we ought to have gone about this in a more ethical manner."

Scorpius frowned. "_Ethical_?" He wouldn't have expected Rose to have such a dirty mouth. Or perhaps his father's grumblings about "that mad ethical bastard Arthur Weasley" had some other meaning?

She gave him a condescending look and deigned to say no more.

"Hey, come on," he said in his best inspirational voice. "You haven't even got to do the really—umm—un_ethical _bits. Claire will feign sick and ask to be excused to the infirmary, then you'll raise your hand and ask the professor to inspect our potion because you're worried we added something or other at the wrong time—"

"Newt's eyes," she interrupted, "and I hope you're aware that I'm not actually planning on adding them before the hellebore and ruining our draught for the sake of this crazy—"

Girls. So irritatingly conscientious. Well—Rose Weasley, anyway.

"Right, right," Scorpius continued, "so Patil will come along and check out our potion, meanwhile Claire will slip into the supply closet on her way out and pocket everything we need for—you know—and by the time we're done distracting the Professor, she'll be out of the classroom with everything we need."

Rose frowned. "But won't she be in trouble?"

"Not unless she's caught."

"But Professor Patil will find out if she never actually goes to the infirmary," Rose explained. "The pass—she's got to have it signed by Nurse Bones. And what if she does go to get it signed but gets in trouble for not actually being sick?"

Scorpius shrugged. "Claire said she'd figured something out. Actually, doesn't one of—umm—those blokes related to you have some sort of product that does that? Makes you sick to get out of class?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Uncle George. It's a double-ended candy that will make you vomit or make your nose bleed or whatever when you take half so that you can get out of class. Then you take the other half and you're all better. But Mum's real strict about all Uncle George's stuff—doesn't let me near most of it. Not as if I'd want to be, anyway."

"What about Al?"

"He probably could have got hold of some. Although honestly, I can't imagine Claire Zabini doing something as base as forcing herself to bleed or vomit."

Scorpius agreed.

"We really ought to have thought this through better," the redhead chastised.

"_Thinking_," he said with a scoff, and would have followed it up with, "That's so Gryffindor," if the words hadn't felt rather wrong in his mouth for a handful of reasons.

x.x.x

"Are you ready?" Al whispered as the Professor began to lecture.

"Are you joking?" Claire replied. "I've only got the fastest fingers in all of First Year."

Al snorted. "And such a way words, too."

She rolled her eyes as if Albus were the excessively alliterative one.

"We ought to have made Scorpius do that part, anyway," he continued. "He's the Gryffindor. For now, at least."

"Too slow," Claire disclosed. "He'd be caught. And on top of that, he'd never be able to come up with a proper lie to get himself out."

"Indeed?" Al raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed," she replied calmly. "But I'll have to hunt you down and slit your throat if you tell Scorpius I said that about him. Understood?"

He swallowed. "Understood. Completely understood."

After years of dealing with his mum, sister, and myriad aunts and girl cousins, Al possessed quite a healthy fear of the female threat.

x.x.x

"_Now_," Albus whispered, nudging the girl beside him.

Claire smirked almost imperceptibly and raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Zabini?"

"Pardon, Professor, but I'm feeling rather off. If I could possibly be excused to the infirmary . . . "

x.x.x

"_Now_," Scorpius whispered, nudging the girl beside him.

"This feels very familiar," Rose grumbled mutinously as she raised her hand. "And very wrong."

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"Oh—Professor Patil, would you be too troubled to come and take a quick look at our potion? I got a bit ahead of myself and now I'm worried I may have added the newt's eyes too soon . . . "

x.x.x

When he caught Claire re-entering the classroom in his peripheral vision, Scorpius tried to catch her attention as well.

"Claire," he mouthed as she took her seat across the classroom. "Claire. Did you go to the nurse?"

His friend twisted her face into a visual "Oh please" and turned away.

"Miss Zabini?" the professor said upon noticing Claire's re-entrance. "You feel well enough to rejoin the class, then?"

Claire nodded politely.

"And do you have your pass?"

She approached the professor's desk and held out what appeared to be her pass.

"Why is it not signed?"

Claire frowned and leaned over the desk, whispering something into Professor Patil's ear. The woman immediately softened, and spoke to Claire in hushed tones. Scorpius strained his ears but could only make out snatches of her speech—" . . . poor dear . . . always so crowded . . . embarrassed, naturally . . . a potion for . . . if you need to be excused to your dormitory . . . "

"What on earth?" Scorpius mouthed after Claire had thanked the Potions professor and turned to gather her books. "You've been excused?"

The black-haired girl flashed a quick Cheshire grin in his direction and waltzed gracefully out the door.

Damn her.

x.x.x

_Son,_

_I must first express my pleasure that you seem to be acclimating yourself to the dizzying altitudes of Gryffindor tower, and, dare I say, acquainting yourself with the natives. _

_However, I see that, as per usual, a Potter knows nothing of which he speaks. Did it ever occur to you, Scorpius, that Gregory Goyle may have been forced to repeat his first year at Hogwarts? Twice? Furthermore, if the toffee-brainers (as you have so kindly dubbed your Housemates) have not yet turned your own brain to sticky confection, you may discover through means of simple addition that, by the time he had made it to second year with _my_ class, Greg was, indeed, fourteen years old._

_Henceforth, please check your sources._

_Yours,_

_Father_

_p.s. I agree wholeheartedly, but please try to keep quiet about the pitch nevertheless. Your grandmother Narcissa is under the impression that I long ago had that area converted into a formal ballroom where you might learn the fine art of the waltz, and she would be devastated were she to catch wind of word to the contrary, In fact, you may find it prudent to burn this letter. Now._

x.x.x

_Albus,_

_I do what I can._

_Much love,_

_Dad_

_p.s. I'm very glad that you are making friends with your fellow Slytherins. However, I must stress that there will be no indoor Quidditch pitch so long as you and your brother are around to destroy it._

x.x.x

Claire smiled faintly as she emptied the contents of her satchel onto the library table.

"Brilliant," Scorpius whispered. "You've got it all."

Albus nodded his own approval.

"You didn't even get detention for not having the pass signed," Scorpius continued. "And—and Patil let you go early. What could you have possibly said?"

Claire raised on eyebrow, then leaned across the table and whispered something to Rose, whose brown eyes went wide as a pair of Galleons.

"You didn't!" Rose whispered.

Claire just nodded.

More comical even than Rose's reaction, Albus found, was Scorpius'. The blond boy's mouth had turned downwards into a scowl, apparently as soon as realized that he wasn't privy to whatever fascinating bit of information the girls were currently snickering over.

"Well, come on then!" he demanded, surly. "What could you possibly want to share with Weasley that you can't let the two of us in on?"

Albus couldn't have possibly cared less about what secret the girls had shared, yet he felt strangely happy that Scorpius' demand had encompassed the both of them.

"Nothing that your weak, male constitution could handle," Claire informed him.

"She's right, really," Rose added. "All you need to know is that Claire"—and here Rose shook her head in awed disapproval —"Claire plays dirty."

x.x.x

_Father,_

_Potter is in Slytherin. Who knows nothing of which he speaks now?_

_Scorpius_

x.x.x

"_Fucking_—Astoria? Read this, will you? It doesn't—it can't possibly—I think my eyesight must be going."

x.x.x

_Dad,_

_If you mean Scorpius Malfoy, he's in Gryffindor, actually._

_Al_

x.x.x

"_Fucking_—Ginny! Ginny, where are you? I've got to show—_oh_—you won't bloody believe this!"

x.x.x

**a/n: **After a year without updates, I'm not really in a position to beg for reviews. But I will extend my love and apologies and hope for the best.


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